


bigger than my body

by 7serotonin



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Depression, Earthborn (Mass Effect), Eating Disorders, Gen, Mass Effect 2, Minor Shakarian if you squint, Post-Horizon (Mass Effect), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7serotonin/pseuds/7serotonin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Shepard's body is a gift from Cerberus, and she struggles to regain control from them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. KAIDAN

**Author's Note:**

> General trigger warning for depression and disordered eating. This is sort of based on personal experiences.

Military life hadn't allowed Shepard to develop a taste for long showers. But then, she isn't military anymore. The thought puts a bitter twist on her mouth.

The burst of energy, mostly driven by annoyance, has faded, and Shepard leans against the shower wall. She closes her eyes against the unpleasant angle of the spray of the water and stands there. Shepard isn't sure how much time passes, not doing anything but feeling the rivulets of water down her body. She wonders if they moved differently now, new paths making way for new scars.

All of _her_ scars were gone. Cerberus had instead given her a fine webbing of glowing cracks across her face. All of her tattoos were gone. She hadn't been this blank since… years, actually, Shepard realizes. She got her first tattoo when she was 13 - an initiation. She had scars for as long as she could remember, across her knees and one little one on her forearm. Time in the Marines had helped her collect more of both.

When she had first “woken up,” it took her a couple seconds to recognize herself. She has adjusted to her reflection, but now in battle she hardly recognizes herself. They had given her heavy skin weaves, enhanced her bones; she is stronger, less fragile than she used to be. In her old body. Her biotics are more powerful, too. No reason to use an old amp in a new body. She is more aggressive that she used to be, throwing herself out into the fray rather than picking enemies off from a distance. Shepard hopes it makes Miranda second-guess herself.

It has made Shepard second-guess herself. She had a seven minute mile. She could do 48 push-ups and 73 sit-ups in two minutes each. After a standard Warp, it took 2.1 seconds for her biotics to recharge. She could go four hours without food before it affected her mood, and eighteen before it affected her head. She used to know her body inside and out. Now she has no idea what her limits are. Shepard tried to spend a free afternoon in the shuttle bay exercising, but she got called up to Miranda’s office for some emergency or other before she managed to exhaust herself. It had been long enough to know her old limits didn't apply.

Shepard wonders how far she could push herself. If the others around her would let her, or hold her back in hopes of _helping_ her. She doesn't want Cerberus’ help; look at where it's gotten her so far.

Shepard thinks morbidly that this is, at least, proof that Miranda wasn't as good as she thought she was. Or maybe this always lurked in the background, a dark spirit further darkening corners, and the Illusive Man insisted it be brought along. Demons of the past; demands of neurobiology. An overhead window of stars so she could wake up and stare into her mortality.

Shepard wipes water off her face and crouched down to the floor. She tilts her head some, trying to find the ideal angle to leave her eyes open. She finds it. Shepard wriggles her toes and circles back to the big question Kaiden had prompted despite her best efforts. What was the difference between Shepard and an AI with Shepard’s body and Shepard’s thoughts and Shepard’s memories?

Did it matter?

Shepard closes her eyes again and drifts off into the clutching, greedy press of space.

When she emerges from the bathroom, pruned and chilled, her terminal is lit up with new messages already. The music, for once, is off.

Shepard lays back onto her bed and stares up into space above her. Intellectually, she knows she had fallen unconscious relatively quickly, but every second is drawn out when you're dying, and she remembers the long moments of the crush of the vacuum on her body. Maybe that was why the Illusive Man included this view, she muses. To remind her of the crushing emptiness of space. To remind her of what awaited them. She could handle that, Shepard thinks. She could control that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to beta read this, that would be much appreciated. This is my first real fic, and I just finished playing Mass Effect for the first time a couple days ago. The next few chapters are mostly done but I'm still trying to figure out how to write the ending.


	2. THANE

They race Thane Krios to the top of the tower. She releases salarian workers from their locked safety and pushes a merc through a window and doesn't feel much about either. Shepard does what is expected, needed from an N7 and a Spectre and the Savior of the Citadel. Garrus looks unfazed, maybe even pleased. He hates mercs worse than she did, and his stint on Omega has hardened him. Shepard feels Miranda by her side and does not bother to look, knows already her expression would be impassive. _Ruthless_. Another desirable trait. _All in order_ , Miranda would report. Or maybe even, _Better than ever_.

Krios prays for himself, and Shepard can't help a little leash of annoyance wrapping around her throat. Were his gods merciful? Did he think they cared about him? Her gods were undoubtedly indignant -- she had escaped their grasp in a way none had before. They would demand reparations, paid in blood. Shepard tried to imagine praying for her soul. It would end poorly. They had far more to answer for than she.

“The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern by actions alone. Take you, for instance. All this destruction… chaos.”

She feels uneasy for the first time about her trip through the towers under the assassin’s analysis, and shifts her gaze back to Nassana’s body. Shepard couldn’t see much from this angle, but Krios had folded her palms gently over after he held her and shot her. They had prayed together, the assassin and the corpse. Shepard doubts Nassana was a religious woman. His presumption annoys her. _Let the dead rest._ The setting sun casts Krios’ face in shadow, setting the room aflame in its red glow. He walks around as he speaks, inspecting her teammates’ weaponry for a moment, looking unconcerned. “You were a valuable distraction.”

“You used me,” Shepard realizes. “So you could kill her.” She waves Garrus and Miranda down. She doesn’t mind being a distraction. Shepard was a tool: for the Tenth Street Reds, Alliance, Cerberus. What was one drell compared to them, the line of masters that trailed her life? He hadn’t intentionally manipulated her -- he simply took advantage of the opportunity she gave him. Shepard approves. He is clearly talented and he is remarkably straightforward with her.

She returns the favor. She is straightforward about their mission, and their intentions to go through the Omega 4 relay. Shepard doesn't have the energy to dance around with him. She feels hollow, mentally and physically. It is a physical thing, pressing into her stomach, and she revels in it. Like Sköll and Hati in the old stories, she wants to consume the sky. She will swallow the black void and grow fat with emptiness.

Krios tells her he’s dying. Shepard twists her mouth in disappointment and reconsiders. She saw him in action today, and it was impressive, but she doesn’t know what he’s dying of and it’s possible that his abilities will suffer. Shepard doesn’t have any pity, though, and fortunately he doesn’t seem to expect any.

They come to an accord and clasp hands. Brightening the universe, she muses blackly. If Krios felt the need to atone for the so-called innocents who died in the Towers today, Shepard wonders what he really thinks about her service record. Or what he would think, if he saw the unredacted version. Shepard gazes across the Illium skyline, sparkling and red, and wonders if you could truly blot out a darkness with your own. Krios seemed to be the philosophical type; maybe she would ask him. Maybe not, she decides. He was dying. It would probably be bad for his morale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again: Anyone who volunteers to beta would be showered with affection. My alpha reader has never played Mass Effect, lol. I found it really difficult to decide how much of the game dialogue to include. Hopefully y'all followed along okay~~ <3


	3. GARRUS

Shepard can feel the weight of Garrus’ scope on the back of her head. Her imagination flickers briefly -- a vision of Garrus, risking the shot, Shepard and Sidonis alike laid out bleeding on the floor. Garrus’ voice crackles on the comm, shaking her from the reverie.

“You're in my shot. Move to the side.”

Shepard looks at Sidonis, wan and pathetic. Garrus would have never recruited a man like this; he has rarely spoken of Omega, or his squad, but what he has said paints a picture of a lively bunch. Sidonis must be a husk of his former self. His eyes look as heavy as hers feel. With his armor, their waists nearly match. A smile flickers onto Shepard’s face and Sidonis looks terrified by it.

Sidonis is a dead man walking. She knows it, Sidonis knows it, but it doesn't sound like Garrus knows this. She wonders if she will shoulder that burden for him, point out the weight bowing this pathetic turian’s head and the bleak look in his eyes. That is what a good leader would probably do. Garrus has been hardened by Omega, but this, here, now, determines whether he buries his squad in Omega, or continues to carry them all with him. All eleven, with Sidonis.

Shepard thinks that this is probably what the Illusive Man picked her for. She thinks of Miranda’s reports, of her conversation with Garrus in the skycar. She turns and begins to walk away even before his shot rings out. She does not have to look to know it's precisely between Sidonis’ eyes.

On the shuttle ride back, Garrus tries to thank her. She shrugs it off and Garrus is happy to sink into his own silence. Probably settling another ghost onto his shoulders, she thinks. She wants to tell him--something. She’s not sure what she should say, what she even could say. Instead, Shepard presses her fingers to her forehead, and idly tries to guess how long -- and how many credits -- it'll take Cerberus to end C-Sec’s investigation. She wonders whether or not she even needs to tell Miranda, or if her XO has already set to work cleaning up the bureaucratic mess.

-

Shepard discovers that Garrus had been isolating himself, before they went after Sidonis. She hadn't realized earlier, and she would feel bad, except she's too busy feeling annoyed, because Garrus continues to chase her around for a heart-to-heart. Shepard puts her visits to the main battery for last during her normal rounds. This way, he is interrupted by Miranda or EDI or the late hour or some other excuse before he can trap her in some awful conversation.

For now, though, Garrus doesn't push too hard. She knows she is probably taking advantage of his trust. Alongside the deep dread of an expected confrontation, now, she feels guilt. He justified his decision to kill Sidonis a long time ago, and likely won’t ever question her decision. She hadn't let him kill Saleon way back when, but there were no prisons awaiting Sidonis. And Garrus is too grateful, too awed to think beyond that. Shepard, of course, only thinks of these reasons after Sidonis dies. If Garrus questions her calm enabling, then he would realize she was--unwell much quicker.

Shepard feels light most of the time now. There is less in her head, less weighing her down; her thoughts are simpler. She calculates for the battles ahead of them, and she counts her meals. She knows she is pushing Garrus away, but if it means she can save this feeling, then it is a sacrifice she is happy to make. She is the only one her crew and humanity can count on; she is the one Cerberus has thrown out in front of them all. It is a heavy burden. She must lighten herself somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to be hard, smh. It took me a little while to add to this and I wanted to keep moving, so excuse any mistakes - I'll probably catch some later. Also: went back to fix a line in Thane's chapter.


	4. SAMARA

Shepard moves through Afterlife in a haze. Kohl rims her eyes and mascara weighs heavy on her lashes. It is the only makeup she owns, and they kept their plans quiet, so she didn't have to fend off any other makeup. She does, however, have Kasumi’s slinky leather dress on again. It is looser than it used to be. It still draws the eye to her minimal cleavage.

She speaks to Hortfin and rescues his friend with a short, awkward conversation. She convinces the bartender to offer a round of free drinks. She dances with an asari -- her crewmates, on all the ships she’s served on, liked to tease her about her ineptitude. She minimizes her movements, trying to pass herself off as aloof rather than incompetent, and tosses a shitty line at the asari in case someone is listening. “If you want to think we're dancing together, go ahead.” She tries a little flirtatious pout. The asari is probably high out of her mind on Hallex, and her wild movements make Shepard look graceful.

The lights are flashing, the music is thumping frantically, and suddenly it turns sour in her head. Shepard wobbles a step in her high heels and tries to figure out what she'll try next when Morinth finally approaches her.

Shepard is relieved at Morinth’s dark, quiet corner, despite herself. She knows Morinth is dangerous, but she feels sluggish. Shepard counts backwards, trying to figure out why her head is suddenly feeling so fuzzy when hunger has always cut through the cloud of emotion and doubt. She has always been able to rely on hunger. It has been a constant; an old acquaintance Shepard has been able to call up whenever she needs a laser-tight focus.

Morinth is impressed with the dark, violent glamor of her own life. Shepard says her lines, and Morinth carries most of the conversation. Shepard drifts as Morinth says something overly poetic about Afterlife’s mediocre music, twists her wrist and watching the tendons flex under her skin. She thinks of Nef, the soft-hearted teenager who had a chance of leaving Omega, and the Ardat-Yakshi in front of her, who was one of the few who appreciated the girl and therefore killed her.

In the end, it is easy to impress Morinth. Easy to set the trap. She’s not sure whose trap, exactly. Maybe it should be disconcerting to be both the bait for one and the victim of another, but Shepard doesn’t care. She delays for Samara’s sake, but Morinth is watching her and the door is locked. She hears the double meaning as Morinth speaks, the jokes the Ardat-Yakshi assumes go unnoticed. Shepard finally, finally sits and closes her eyes against a little dizzy spell.

“We’ve both killed many times,” she manages to get out, “but that’s where the similarities end.”

Morinth leans forward and throws her powers at Shepard. It feels like she is simultaneously falling into a dream and waking up; she is already so tired, and finally Shepard understands Morinth’s danger when she feels the tendrils of her power wrap around her. It feels soothing, an offer of comfort and control. Morinth asks her to kill. Shepard already kills. Morinth’s mind whispers to her own, depicts the freedom they could have together. Anywhere Shepard wants to go, they visit; anything Shepard wants to do, they partake. It would be an easy life, a carefree life without obligations, under her own power. Shepard is willing to beg her for it--is about to beg for it--when Samara interrupts, and internally, she howls with fury and loss. Morinth and Samara are equally infuriated and evenly matched when they battle.

Shepard grinds her teeth together and twists Morinth’s arm behind her back.

Samara kills her daughter. They leave Omega quickly. Samara retreats back into the starboard observation deck, undoubtedly to meditate and soothe her soul. Shepard wishes she could do the same. At the very least, she gets to her cabin uninterrupted. Shepard stays in the shower for a very long time, and does not eat until two mornings later, when Kelly offers her a ration bar and a bright, guileless smile. Shepard smiles back, delighted that she’s managed to rattle Cerberus, and watches Kelly waver in surprise.


	5. MORDIN

As soon as they touched down on Neith, she knew she hated the mission. Wreckage of the merchant freighter laid scattered across the valley; nobody ever liked a wreck, but after dying in one…

It doesn't stop her from picking her way through, though, scavenging platinum and mech parts and picking up the few datapads that had survived.

Shepard has to read the status report she's found three times before she understands it. “No shield breaches,” she reads out loud, then taps her finger, trying to think. “Let's keep moving.”

Mordin and Garrus remain quiet as they make their way to the distress beacon. She's about to deactivate it when Mordin catches her attention and plays a log that she had missed.

“Trenton, we’ve got a problem in the cargo bay. Marcus says the mechs in the containers are activating and self-destructing. Go check it out.”

“Good work, Mordin,” Shepard says, turning back to the beacon. “Now let's get out of here.” She sets to work, deactivating it neatly, and no sooner does she finish then the shuttle’s VI comes over their comm system.

She stares out, uncomprehending, for a moment; Garrus is the one who springs into action first, charging down the left and already picking off two LOKI mechs with his sniper rifle by the time Shepard reaches him. Mordin and Garrus clear out the closest immediately. She's left fumbling her pistol, trying to pick off mechs outside her range, with the sandstorm the VI already alerted them to sweeping in. Her hands are shaking slightly and she can feel her heart beating far, far too rapidly for the adrenaline of combat. When the YMIR mech appears, Shepard immediately throws a Warp, then ducks back down, feeling stupid and humiliated when she realizes its shields are still up and her Warp barely shook it. Garrus hits with one-- two-- headshots -- it fires a rocket -- Shepard shouts wordlessly as Garrus ducks back into cover, narrowly avoiding another rocket to the face.

She shudders, horrified, but Mordin finishes off its shields and she stands up, hitting it with a Warp and firing her SMG near-blind at it, ignoring the LOKI mechs approaching on her 9, ignoring the warning beeps of her depleting shields. One of her teammates, she's not paying enough attention to know who, handles the LOKI mechs as she fires at the YMIR. Shepard throws another Warp wildly. The sandstorm has decreased the visibility to 60%, the shuttle’s VI helpfully tells her, and she is mostly relying on the direction of the returning fire and the grinding noises of the mech. She dives away from a rocket and into an approaching LOKI mech’s line of fire, but the YMIR is almost finished, so she grits her teeth.

Finally, it shudders and explodes. Shepard dives behind some cover, gasping in pain as her pulse thuds in her ears and her armor shrieks as it releases medi-gel and repairs itself. Mordin and Garrus have pushed forward towards the shuttle. Her shields back up, Shepard decides she's close enough and ignores the oncoming LOKI mechs to rush towards the shuttle. Garrus, with his long strides, leaps past her and provides covering fire as she and Mordin clamber on.

As soon as they have lifted off the ground, Garrus turns to her with a growl. “Spirits, Shepard, what was that! You're not some Vanguard, why would you risk yourself like that!”

Shepard waves him off, exhausted, her heart hammering hard. “Just -- grab me some more medi-gel, would you, the stock’s over there.” Garrus is obviously perturbed, but nods and turns away to assist her.

When she glances up, Mordin is staring at her. When he speaks, it throws her for a loop: “Human psychology interesting. Starvation a universal threat, most species actively avoid. Humans unique in maintaining hunger under psychological duress. _Anorexia nervosa_ ,” He says, in English. Shepard can hear his alien accent on the words, so different from her translator’s interpretation of his voice. Mordin tilts his head at her, does his odd sniff. “Experimentation good, but has ethical limits. Clearly risking own health, health of team, Shepard.”

She bows her head under the weight of his words, remembering the terrifying moment that she thought she would lose Garrus to a rocket -- again. She twists her hands together, so terrified and anxious she can barely think, nevertheless speak.

“How many--” she clears her throat, stammers. “I mean, who else knows?”

Mordin sniffs. “Unknown for certain. Likely Lawson, AI, Goto. Possible Vakarian, Krios have detected a problem.”

Garrus is returning now with medi-gel to replenish her stock and a levo first aid kit, too. Shepard feels like her heart is crumpling in her chest as he kneels at her feet and goes to help her out of her armor. Mordin says, in a softer tone, “Must improve health, Commander,” and pats her on the hand. He leaves for the other corner, bringing up his omni-tool, trying to give them as much privacy as possible. Garrus gives her a questioning look, but Shepard shakes her head and focuses on removing her chestpiece when her ribs feel maybe cracked.


	6. MIRANDA

It's been nearly two weeks since Neith: Chakwas insisted on a total of four days off-duty, recovering, and had managed to keep an IV in Shepard for several hours before she had yanked it out. Chakwas barely allowed Shepard to descend to Jarrahe Station to continue tracking the infected mechs; to the doctor's relief, there had been no combat, only a homicidal VI. Now they're headed to the Hahne-Kedar facility to shut down the virus once and for all.

As soon as Shepard steps out of her bathroom, EDI immediately lights up her little terminal. “Commander, Operative Lawson is requesting access to your quarters for a private meeting.”

“Noted. How long was I in there?”

“As I lack monitors in your private bathroom, I cannot give you a precise answer.” Was that a note of reproach in EDI’s tone? Probably. “However, the water ran for 53 minutes.”

“That'll be all,” Shepard says.

“Logging you out.”

Shepard rubs her eyes, knowing with a deep sense of dread that this is the confrontation that she has been so hoping she could avoid. The door buzzes again, indicating Miranda’s impatience. Shepard hisses in displeasure and considers for a moment just hiding in the room and waiting her out. But no, EDI has probably already notified Lawson she was available, and the Cerberus operative would easily, stubbornly, out-wait her. So Shepard dresses, pulls her damp hair back, and opens the door with no small amount of reluctance. Shepard expects Miranda to breeze by her immediately, so she is a little surprised when Miranda instead turns around to her and looks just as nervous.

“Shepard. May I--?” she says, hesitantly. Shepard stands by silently, allowing Miranda to sit on the little unused couch Cerberus installed.

Miranda clears her throat, starts abruptly. “Do you remember a conversation we had a while ago? I had just told you about my father and the genetic engineering I underwent.”

She pauses, actually waiting for a sign, so Shepard tilts her head at her, confused. “I always held great respect for your accomplishments, Commander. I didn't have much trust in you, personally, at that point. But you said something to me--” Miranda hesitates, whether to recall her words exactly or to reevaluate the conversation in the face of Shepard’s supremely unimpressed expression, she wasn't sure. Still, Miranda plunges on. “You told me I was more than a tool. That I had earned my achievements on my own.”

Shepard nods slowly, the conversation drifting back to her. It _had_ been a while ago -- before Horizon, before this illness had set in and started gnawing at her bones. She sees clearly where Miranda is going with this and shifts uncomfortably. “Miranda,” she starts, not quite sure what she's actually going to say, but Miranda cuts across her.

“Shepard, I trust you, not just as your subordinate. You helped me with my sister. That means a lot to me. I respect you immensely, on and off the battlefield. The crew does, too. I know we're paid by Cerberus,” Miranda shakes her head. “But I think I speak for us all when I say we trust you. Cerberus has always impressed on us how vital you are -- and how disposable we are. You don't see anyone that way. Except yourself.”

Shepard frowns and, unable to help herself her nervous tics, wraps her hands into the material of her pants and fidgets. She shakes her head, tries to find words.

Miranda seems to understand the difficulty she is having, and averts her eyes to look towards EDI’s terminal. “EDI, is our conversation secure?”

“There are no listening devices in these quarters besides my own auditory inputs. In addition, I am set to privacy mode in this area. There is passive monitoring for prompts, but it is a background operation.”

“And if the Illusive Man asks for a report?”

EDI pauses before responding. “The Illusive Man receives weekly summaries on the Normandy’s activity. These are determined by my judgement, according to programmed parameters, and do not include private conversations unless they directly threaten the well-being of the crew or mission. If the Illusive Man specifically requests a report on private conversations or medical issues, the report will be filed, but may be delayed by standard scrubbing protocols or for adjustments by an executive officer of the ship before being sent.” Shepard, despite herself, is touched by this show of personality and rebellion on her behalf. Miranda smiles at EDI’s digital form, and gently touches Shepard on the knee.

“You can rely on us, Shepard,” Miranda insists. “The _Normandy_ is yours. Not anyone else, not now.”

For the first time in years, Shepard breaks down into tears. She feels lighter than ever, despite the calories Chakwas had forced into her. Miranda looks far more unphased than she expected, really; she had thought Miranda would be uncomfortable with her commander’s tears, but Miranda offers her a tissue silently.

“We'll be reaching the Hahne-Kedar facility in approximately five hours," Miranda says, standing. "You have enough time to sleep, if you want.”

Shepard considers. She _is_ tired, but the idea of finishing these mechs off invigorates her. She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “We're going to the shuttle bay. No biotics,” Shepard adds quickly. “You've witnessed my allotted one cry per year. Can’t have you thinking I’m gonna go soft,” she says with a weak laugh.

“Shepard, this really isn't necessary…”

“Don't be scared, Miranda. I'll go easy on you.”

Miranda rolls her eyes but, still, looks a bit relieved to have her normal Commander back, aggressive and sarcastic. “Fine,” she sighs, and brings up her omni-tool to send off a message. “Best two out of three, and then Garrus will take over for me.”

Shepard thinks she can feel her blush all the way to her fingertips. “Stop dawdling,” she grumbles, and shoves Miranda lightly out the door. “Now I really want to beat down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ not super happy with this... but I sat on it for months and I still don't know how to make it better. Oh well. It's done! I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading.


End file.
